


This Makes Sense

by xMagicalMystery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Head Boy James, Head Girl Lily, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, except it ends at hogwarts so you and i can pretend they live happily ever after, good old trope-y teen romance but make it hogwarts jily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xMagicalMystery/pseuds/xMagicalMystery
Summary: Lily doesn't know much about James Potter, besides that he's the confident and popular Gryffindor quidditch captain who pulls extravagant pranks, throws unnecessary parties, and still manages to get into the top 5 of their class year after year. That is, until 7th year rolls around and they become Head Boy and Girl and she somehow gets roped into being his (fake) girlfriend.





	1. Head Boy

**Author's Note:**

> You know what I miss? The classic, Jily at Hogwarts, falling in love in 7th year when they're thrown together as Head Boy and Head Girl fics from the olden days. So I decided to write it, and throw in some fake dating goodness, because why the hell not? (I'm on a YA contemporary romance kick)
> 
> This story is pretty loosely plotted right now, I don't want to take it too seriously. I'm just gonna have some fun with it and let it go where it wants to go, and I hope you guys have a good time with it too!

**Chapter 1: Head Boy**

_Evans,_

_I heard from Macdonald that you’re Head Girl. Obviously it was going to be you, so I’m not surprised. I haven’t gotten a letter yet, but everyone said it would be me. Your letter says who the Head Boy is, right? _

_I heard from someone that’s mates with Remus Lupin that it’s James Potter, but I don’t believe it. There’s no way Dumbledore would make him Head Boy. He’s a prick who never met an opportunity to take his shirt off that he didn’t take, that hardly qualifies him for the most important student position at school. What a joke. So who is it actually?_

_Lewis Collins_

x.x.x.x.x

_Potter,_

_Congratulations on making Head Boy! I'm not entirely surprised, but it's still hilarious. I'll spare you the jokes though, I'm sure Black has already used them all. And anyways, I'm glad it's you and not Lewis Collins like everyone was expecting. I appreciate a good Welsh accent as much as the next girl, but he's a prick._

_I think it would be a good idea for us to meet before school starts. I'd like to get an idea of how we want to do things and sort out some start of school items so we're prepared when we meet with Dumbledore in September. We'll make a good impression, and it'll take the pressure off for the first couple of weeks. That way we can settle in and take it easy before classes pick up._

_I'm doing my school shopping this coming weekend. If you can make it to Diagon Alley then, that would be ideal, but let me know what works for you._

_Congratulations again! _

_Lily Evans_

x.x.x.x.x

_Evans,_

_Thank you! Congratulations to you too, I'm entirely unsurprised. You were the only correct choice and I'm glad. Sirius hasn't stopped sulking long enough to crack any jokes, but thank you for sparing me all the same._

_Meeting ahead of school is a great idea. I should have realized you would want to get a head start and beat you to it. Ah well, I'll get it next time._

_I'll see you at the Cauldron on Saturday at noon? We'll talk over lunch._

_James_

x.x.x.x.x

_Potter,_

_Saturday at noon is perfect. See you then._

_Lily Evans_

x.x.x.x.x

On Saturday, I walk into The Leaky Cauldron at noon and beeline for the only empty table I see. Some students have already started their Hogwarts shopping, and the Cauldron is never not busy at lunch anyways, so there’s quite a rush of people. Still, I manage to snag a good spot away from the noisy bar by sliding into the table just as the previous occupants leave it.

I don’t mind the crowd. The hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley is comforting and familiar and it fills me with excitement. It reminds me how close September is. After spending the summer with Petunia, my dreadful bore of a sister, that’s a welcome reminder.

Generally, I like to arrive a few minutes early to things, because I hate being late and like to give myself extra time to avoid it. But I figure Potter is going to be late because he's always late to class, so I’m safe just being on time.

To my surprise though, I’ve hardly sat down before I see him walk in too. He comes in from the Diagon Alley side, so I guess he must have already been here. When he spots me, he gives me a friendly smile and a little wave as he starts to make his way over.

If I’m being totally honest, I was nervous at the prospect of James Potter being Head Boy. He’s loud and rowdy and seems far more interested in disrupting the peace with his mates than he is in making it. He and Sirius Black probably have more detentions between them than everyone else in the rest of our year combined. If ever there was a party, Potter was at the center of it. Back in the day, the same could be said for a fight. When we were younger, I remember him being a complete prat, hexing students for the fun of it, and always ready to show off what a talented duelist he thought he was.

I think that was probably everyone’s initial reaction to the news, but I’ve thought a lot about it, and I think I can see why Dumbledore picked him. In fact, I actually think it makes a lot of sense, and the more I think about it, the more I realize he was really the _only _option.

Potter was never a prefect, which I think is what probably threw everyone off. But he is the Gryffindor quidditch captain, and that comes with a lot of responsibility that he’s handled really well so far. And in fairness, he has cleaned up his act quite a lot since we were fifteen, which I can appreciate. Last year he’d mostly just minded his own business. He still caused some scenes with his mates, but that had been in good fun and not because of a fight.

Potter still thinks himself a rare talent in all things and is infuriatingly arrogant – that's probably why he feels like it’s alright for him to sweep into class late all the time, his hair a mess and his tie crooked. He thinks he knows everything already. But regardless of his lack of respect for time, he’s also always done really well in classes. Last year he was top of our class in Transfiguration and Defence, and fourth overall – it’s actually kind of annoying, how he gets to be athletic and rowdy _and_ smart. But being annoying is not reason enough to not be Head Boy. And anyways, he’s far less annoying than that prat, Lewis Collins.

The biggest thing, which I think Dumbledore knows, is that if I could pick any one boy who all of Hogwarts might actually listen to, it's Potter. Just about everyone at school loves him, or at the very least, grudgingly respects him. I’m not sure I have the same hold on the Hogwarts population that he does (actually, I definitely don’t, because no one does), and even if it is for all the wrong reasons, I’m sure that will be helpful. 

So really, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone that he'd gotten the badge. Potter always gets everything without even trying. But whether he tried or not, he deserves this.

Still, at first I'd been worried about how seriously he would actually take being Head Boy, but he'd responded to my letter really quickly and hadn't been snide about me wanting to meet early. And now he's shown up right on time, so some of my apprehension is already beginning to slip away. 

Potter takes the seat across from me. "Alright, Evans?" 

I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at the old greeting. He used to run his hand through his hair and smirk as he said it, like he'd dropped the most enticing pickup line of all time. Now it's just habit though, so I only smile politely, and say, "Hey."

"How's your summer going?" Potter asks jovially. Potter doesn’t care who he’s talking to. He just loves to talk.

Besides what I’ve heard about him (which I take with a grain of salt because Hogwarts is full of drama loving gossips), I don’t know much about James Potter. We got off on the wrong foot when we first met, he’d been rude to me and my (then) best friend Severus on the train to Hogwarts. But we’d gotten past that fairly quickly, and hadn’t spoken much since. We never exactly had the same interests or many of the same friends.

The most I’ve ever interacted with him was in fifth year, when for a couple of months he developed an irritating crush on me. That ended with a row with Severus and then disappeared entirely the following year. Potter apologized to me before we boarded the train home that summer, I said it was fine because he wasn’t the part of the fight that had really hurt me anyways, and since then I’d say my relationship with him has been… well, nonexistent, really. Polite, because we're housemates in the same year. But that's about all we have in common.

Which I guess is why I have no idea how to talk to him now. Maybe I should have thought of some things to talk about. I’ve only thought about the head students stuff.

"Not too bad,” I say. I don’t go into any detail because it’s obviously only polite conversation. “How's yours?"

"Brilliant.” Potter grins. “I spent most of it in Greece, I only just got back last week."

Of course Potter would spend his summer in Greece. Why wouldn't he? That's exactly the type of casually envy-inducing thing he would do. He looks it, too. He has a nice warm tan, and it suits him. Somehow makes his shock of unruly black hair and hazel eyes look so much nicer.

Not that they don't always look nice. He always looks nice. Like I’m not enamoured with him like so many of the girls at school are, but... well, I’m also not blind. Potter is well fit. Back in fifth year when he'd fancied me, I'd thought him an annoying prat, but I still noticed some girls giving me envious looks whenever he tried to talk to me, and… okay, I’d never admit it out loud, but some small part of my fifteen year old self might have liked that. As immature as it is, who doesn’t like getting attention from someone whose attention everyone else craves?

He'd gotten tall and his face had lost most of its boyish softness that year, but it wasn't until last year, when the rest of him had bulked out a little to catch up with his height, that I'd really noticed how attractive he actually is. Now he's tall and lean instead of tall and a bit scrawny, his muscles more defined and toned. And he’s always had a nice face, but his features fit so much better on it now that it’s all angles and sharp jawline.

Okay, so I think he's attractive, objectively speaking – but I haven’t ever, and I never will fancy him. It’s just something that you can’t not notice when you’re sitting across from Potter. It makes him a little bit hard to talk to. 

"That sounds nice." I lick my lips and shift a little in my seat. I wish I knew Potter a little bit better, so this wouldn't feel so awkward. I know him in the way you might know anyone you've been to school with for six years, but I don’t know him in any way that tells me what to talk to him about. "So, should we just get started then?"

Potter's eyebrows shoot up and he laughs. "Oh come on, Evans."

I frown at him. "What?"

"Let's just get some food first at least, yeah? I'm sure you want to get right down to business, but I actually think it might be nice to get to know each other a little? We will have to spend the year working together, after all."

"I guess," I say, with a little shrug. I want to say that I’d thought so too, I just wasn't sure what to say. Potter never seems to have that problem. When you talk as much as he does all the time, it probably starts to come with ease.

"So my mum's Greek," he says conversationally, waving over Genevieve Wallace, a friendly middle aged woman who has worked at the Cauldron for as long as I’ve come here. "I haven’t visited Santorini in a few years, so she thought we should go this year. It’s where she grew up.”

I smile genuinely, because it’s a surprisingly sweet little detail to share, and say, “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“It’s so beautiful,” he says, just as Genevieve reaches us. Potter turns his smile and his attention to her. “Genie!”

“Hi darling,” she says, returning his smile with a warm one of her own. “Where have you been off to all summer?”

“Greece with mama,” he tells her, like they’re old friends. _James Potter calls his mother mama. _I add that little detail to the short list of things I know about him in my brain.

“Well, I’m glad to have you back.”

“I bet.” He grins. “Has anyone told you how good summer looks on you?”

Genie laughs. “Hush, you.” She gives me a look, like we’re sharing an inside joke. “He thinks he can flirt his way to free drinks every time he’s here.”

I shake my head, like I’m in on it. “Sounds like Potter.”

It always takes a bit of time to adjust to being around James Potter. A few minutes in I’ll get used to how effortless his existence is, how everyone around him seems automatically drawn to him. Right now, it’s still throwing me. I’m thinking, what must it be like to go through the world being him?

“I don’t _think_ I can. I do it all the time.” Genevieve rolls her eyes, and Potter innocently adds, “But I won’t try anything today, I swear.”

“Oh?” Genevieve raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah. See, Evans and I are here to work. She’s Head Girl this year, to absolutely no one’s surprise, because she’s brilliant. And I’ve somehow landed Head Boy.”

“Oh!” Genevieve gasps, clutching her heart in excitement and looking down at both of us like a proud mother. “Congratulations! Well earned, both of you. I think this warrants some celebratory drinks, on the house!”

Potter gives me a secret smile. To Genevieve, he says, “If you insist.”

x.x.x.x.x

Two hours later, I’ve finished off my tomato soup and am snacking on my last piece of bread. We’re on our third round of free drinks and have gotten quite a lot done besides.

I’ve told Potter about the system I came up with for assigning rounds and tutoring shifts to the prefects, so we can avoid the commotion it always causes. He said he trusts my expert opinion on that, since I’ve been a prefect for two years. We scheduled and planned out the first few prefects meetings and prepared for our meeting with Dumbledore. I ran several general ideas by him, all of which he had surprisingly thoughtful feedback on.

In between, I’ve told him about the cat that had kittens in my backyard and my summer internship at the Daily Prophet. He’s told me about how he might like to live on a Greek island when he’s old and out of energy (which I don’t think will ever happen), because life there seems so idyllic and relaxing.

And then he surprised me even more by suggesting ideas of his own. I expected to be the only one talking, or at least the one leading the conversation. But Potter had started telling me about how, in light of all the “dark shit” going on, we ought to have some more events at school to keep the students happy and distracted and encourage unity.

I’d been thinking the same thing, so now we’ve got a good list of ideas brainstormed. It all needs more fleshing out of course, but we have some vague plans. It’s solid enough to bring to Dumbledore.

“I’ll write to all of them tonight when I get home to see who’s interested,” Potter’s saying now, his eyes running over the list of names he’d come up with for a potential networking event. “I’ll let you know what they say when they get back to me.”

“That’s perfect, thank you! Dumbledore is going to be so much more open to this if we can tell him there’s people interested in doing it.”

I’m so pleasantly surprised at how the meeting’s gone. Potter is polite, he’s interested, he’s involved and participating. I’m glad I decided to do this, because it takes so much of the nerves and pressure off. I would have spent the last few weeks of summer stressing about having to work with someone I don’t know and wondering whether he’d even give a shit at all.

I feel a little bad for having expected Potter to be irresponsible about this. I thought, if he even agreed to it, he’d grumble and complain through the whole meeting and tell me I’m taking it too seriously or something. My own friends often think I take things too seriously, which I find fucking annoying, actually. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with caring about things.

“So, do you think that’s enough to take us into September?” he asks.

“More than,” I say. “Thanks for meeting me early, I know it’s still summer and you probably have plans.”

Potter shakes his head. “No, it was honestly a good idea. This is a bunch of shit we don’t have to worry about at school now. Plus, you know.” Potter pauses for a moment, and he looks a little unsure – a strange look on him. He clears his throat uncomfortably. “I wanted you to know I actually do take this seriously. Despite what you might think.”

I feel a little ashamed at having thought exactly what he thinks I thought, but he doesn’t have to know it.

“What I think is that Dumbledore made a good choice,” I assure him. I’ve never seen him look uncomfortable or unsure, and it strikes me that this might be the first time everyone has doubted him. That he might be here to make a point. I know everyone doubts him, because all the friends I’ve talked to have laughed when I told them, which I realize now was unfair and actually quite mean.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Really?” This is one thing that I do know about Potter. Despite his inherent confidence, he does love positive feedback.

“Yeah. I think it makes a lot of sense.” I leave it there, because he doesn’t need his ego stroked by me.

Potter beams at me. “Thank you! That means something coming from you.”

I’m not sure if that’s his usual flattery, I think Potter might talk to everyone like they’re the most important person in the world, but I like hearing it anyways. It means something coming from _me._

“I think we’re gonna make a good team, Evans.” He leans in, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. “Between you and me, I really think we’re the best ones.”

I take the final sip of my butterbeer. “The best what?”

“The best two people at Hogwarts,” he says, like it’s obvious.

I snort in amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And right,” he insists. “You don’t have to be modest in front of me, we’re pals now.”

“Maybe you should try a little bit of modesty,” I suggest. “It might make you more tolerable.”

“Hey, come on now. I’m trying to make nice!”

I raise an eyebrow. “So all that was just false flattery?”

Potter chuckles. “I can’t get a thing past you, Evans.”

Before I can respond, Evelyn Taylor walks up behind him and places a manicured hand on his shoulder. Potter looks up and smiles when he sees that it’s her, leaning back slightly to rest his head against her.

“Hi, love,” he says. “Perfect timing, we’re just finishing up.”

Evelyn nods and, over the top of his head, she smiles at me. “Hi, Lily. Congratulations on getting Head Girl.”

I glance away from the possessive grip she has on his shoulder and return her smile. “Thank you.”

Evelyn Taylor is Potter’s on again, off again, on again, off again, on again (etc.) girlfriend. They’d arrived at school a couple at the start of sixth year, and spent the rest of it breaking up and making up again and again. The last time I saw them, at the end of the school year, they’d been broken up. I guess now they’re on again, and I just barely avoid rolling my eyes. If I have to hear her crying in our dorm over him one more time, I might just slap some sense into her myself.

I get up and slip the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “See you guys at school.”

“Bye, Evans.” Potter gets up too, but he barely glances at me and turns around to face Evelyn. As I walk past them to get to the Diagon Alley exit, his mouth is already firmly latched on to her’s.

Right. This is the James Potter I know.


	2. Fast Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this story would have frequent updates? lmaooooo. But like, y'all should have known better than to expect that from me. I'm very very sorry, life is strange. Tbh this chapter is not thoroughly edited, I'm posting it basically as soon as I finished writing it, so idk how good it is. I just wanted to update quickly now that I'm finally writing again. But I think it's fun, so I hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 2: Fast Friends**

I love the sights and sounds of September 1st.

The clouds of grey smoke billowing from the massive red steam engine. Rain on the platform – it’s rained every single year now. The wheels of luggage carts rolling on the ground under the weight of heavy trunks. The excited squeals of groups of friends finally reuniting after a long summer apart. Parents calling “_make sure you write every week!” _as their kids board the Hogwarts Express. Students laughing and owls hooting and the train whistle blowing.

The sounds of going back to Hogwarts. All of it feels just as exciting and as magical now as it had the first time I burst through the wall between platforms 9 and 10 and finally _truly _believed in all the stories Severus had told me.

I’m seventeen now. Taller and wiser and with better hair. But being here reminds me of being a wide eyed kid, the nostalgia of it gets me every time. I want to commit every single bit of this to memory, because I am keenly aware that this time is the last time.

“Evans! How are the kittens?”

That’s a new sound. I stop on my way to board the train and turn to see James Potter striding towards me, hands in his pockets. His shiny, new head boy badge is pinned proudly to his robes. I smile at him. “Hey! The kittens are all gone to good homes.”

He comes to a stop in front of me. “You didn’t keep one for yourself?”

“I wanted to, but kittens need too much attention and Oliver is already a jealous cat.”

“That’s too bad, I love small animals. How was the rest of your summer?”

“Pretty calm, still just the kittens and my internship and hanging out. How was yours?”

“Same, I just spent some time with my mum and the lads. I read your article about the Ellis Moor pitch keeper, by the way,” he says, and the gleam of excitement in his eyes tells me this is why he actually came over. “_So_ good. I didn’t think they let interns write articles but after I read it, I could see why they let you. There was so much in there that I didn’t know. How did you even find him?”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, feeling a pleased flush bloom across my cheeks. I hope it’s not too obvious.

“Thanks! I met him at a Silk Street Charmers concert, and then he came with us to the pub after. He had so many amazing stories. Obviously, like he’s seen decades of teams pass through Ellis Moor Stadium, so he’s got all of these incredible anecdotes about quidditch legends that no one’s ever heard. Of course I asked if he’d do an interview for the Prophet, and he said only if I was the one to write it so…” I shrug, unable to keep the grin off my face.

That article is my favourite thing that I’ve ever done, and I think that even when I’ve published a thousand, I’ll be just as proud of it. Potter’s right, interns don’t get to write articles. The fact that I did, that a piece I wrote was published and I got to put my name on it as an intern is something I’m always going to take pride in.

“That’s incredible.” Potter tilts his head, eyebrows quirked slightly. There’s a hint of curiosity in his features. “I had no idea you were so into quidditch.”

I wonder if he’s adding this to his short list of things he knows about Lily Evans. “I’ve liked quidditch since I got to Hogwarts. But I got _really_ into it when all the Puddlemere transfer ban drama was happening last summer.”

Potter grins at me. Behind his glasses, there’s surprise in his eyes. “Oh my god, that was insane. The most depressing summer of my life.” His expression darkens a little. “We were about to win our tenth league title in a row, too. I still think there was an agenda. That should be your next big story.”

My lips twitch. I’ve seen Potter in Puddlemere shirts enough times that his being a fan isn’t news to me. But I add _believes in the anti-Puddlemere conspiracy_ to my list. “I plan to write about real stories, not conspiracy theories spun by bitter fans.”

Potter’s mouth drops. He looks _scandalized._ From behind him, Sirius Black calls his name. Potter looks over his shoulder and then glances back at me. “I gotta go. But this isn’t over, Evans. I’ll make a believer out of you.”

I laugh. “I don’t think you will.”

“We’ll see, won’t we? See you later, Evans.”

“See you.”

I wave as Potter turns to join his friends, and then head back towards the train. I’m wondering whether I’m too late to save our usual compartment, when I spot a head of dark hair in my periphery. Evelyn’s blue eyes catch mine from where she’s standing with her family. I smile at her, and she smiles back, but I wonder if she was watching me and Potter?

x.x.x.x.x

The first week back flies by so fast, I’m in a bit of a daze as I walk to Potions early in the morning on the second Monday back. How are we already here?

Arriving on a Friday evening gave us the weekend to unpack, settle in, and catch up with everyone. Someone always throws a welcome back party in the common room on the first night back – for the past two years, Potter and his mates had taken that responsibility upon themselves. I was relieved (though not surprised) that his badge didn’t stop Potter from continuing with it this year. It’s a Gryffindor tradition, and it’s always so much fun. This year, it was _so_ much fun that we picked it right back up where we left off on Saturday evening too.

It’s why I’m glad Potter is head boy. At this point, I think I can trust that he’ll take things seriously and make the right decisions when he needs to. Our meeting with Dumbledore on the first night back proved that to me. But I don’t think a party here and there hurts anybody, and someone like Lewis Collins would never stand for it – not that it’s all that relevant, because it’s a Gryffindor thing and Collins is a Hufflepuff, but still. It’s nice that the head boy and I are on the same page.

Potter and I met with the Prefects on the train for introductions. We gave them instructions for the feast and first year orientation, and informed them of the dates for the first couple of meetings. Lewis Collins glared at Potter so furiously the entire time, it took all my strength not to giggle every time I caught sight of him – a few times, I failed. My giggling made Potter laugh (I’d told him about Collins’ letter) which made me laugh even more, and we probably came off a little high.

Collins even pulled me aside after the meeting to rant to me, thinking I’d take his side. I’ve never met another person so lacking in self awareness. Like I don’t think I’ve been all that subtle about my dislike for him over the years that we’ve been prefects together, why would he think that I’d want him to be head boy? The look on his face when I said I was thrilled it was Potter and thought he was an excellent choice… okay, so maybe it was a little rude_ that_ time, but I couldn’t help laughing again. What a prat.

At the first proper meeting the next morning, when we’d gone over plans for the next few weeks and assigned rounds and tutoring shifts (we figured it was best to just get it out of the way right away), Collins skulked in the back of the room and glared at _both_ of us, and despite our hangovers, Potter smirked at me like we had an inside joke. Since then, I haven’t seen much of Potter. I mean, I’ve seen him _around_, obviously. But I haven’t talked to him much. We’ve been so on top of it from the start, there hasn’t been a need.

In Potions, I take the seat that has been mine since we started using this room in fifth year: third row from the front, left side of the centre desk. Just far enough that it doesn’t encourage Slughorn to interact with me any more than he already feels compelled to, but not so far back that I can’t read the board.

It’s a fairly small class this year. Sixteen students between all four houses. Last year’s exam was tough, so it’s not that surprising. Both Marlene and Mary have dropped it, leaving me all alone in class. Last week was a lecture week so it hasn’t mattered so far, but I know we’ll be picking our partner for the first assignment this week. I’m decently good friends with a few people here so I don’t think it’ll really be an issue, but I’ve always worked with Mary and we had such a good system. I hate working with people I don’t know that well.

Professor Slughorn sweeps into class with his usual jovial clap and a “good morning!” that’s just a bit too cheery first thing on a Monday morning. He drops a book on his desk and faces the room of students, most still in the process of waking up from the weekend.

“Last week, we discussed mood altering potions. For the next couple of weeks, as you know, you’ll be concocting one. Let’s start today’s class with choosing your partners for this assignment, because I think you’ll find it useful to brainstorm throughout this lecture. You have five minutes.”

Everyone immediately starts shuffling around the room and talking all at once. I was expecting for this to happen on Wednesday, so I’m a bit thrown. Shit. Who do I want?

I look around the room to observe my options. Not any of the Slytherins. Definitely not Severus. Not Collins. Black and Lupin have already partnered up a few rows behind me. In front of them, Pettigrew is sitting alone at his desk, but he seems unbothered, so I assume he and Potter have already planned to pair up even though he’s – predictably – late. Evelyn and our dormmate Eliza Cresswell have partnered up too – something else I’ve learned in the week back at school: Evelyn and Potter are off again. Idiots, honestly.

I’m too busy looking around the room to notice when he quietly slinks up next to me. I’m about to get up to ask Hestia Jones, a sweet Ravenclaw who also looks lost, if she wants to be partners… when his familiar voice says, “Partner up with me.” He’s too close to my ear.

I immediately go rigid. Instinctively, I take a step away before I turn to Severus. “No.”

“You don’t have a partner anyways,” he says, defiantly setting his books down at the seat next to me. It’s a small little action, but it immediately makes my blood boil. Severus stares at me with his still, dark eyes, daring me to challenge him. I glance back at Hestia, but she’s talking to someone else already, and a quick sweep of the room tells me just about everyone else has paired up already too.

_Fuck. _I might really have no choice but to be partners with him. No, no, _no._ I glance at Slughorn, thinking maybe I can make up some excuse to get out of it – but he’s positively _beaming _at us, he’s so chuffed to see his dream team together. So that’s out.

“I do have a partner,” I say anyways, my tone icy to my own ears.

Severus gives me a skeptical frown. “Who?”

At that moment, Potter rushes into the room – hair a mess, tie crooked, bookbag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He apologizes to Slughorn, but slows down when he notices that there’s no teaching happening and everyone’s still talking.

“Potter,” I blurt, without thinking, as he walks towards his seat.

Thinking I’ve called him, Potter slows as he gets to my seat. “Yeah?”

“Potter’s my partner,” I tell Severus.

“_What?”_ Severus hisses. Potter hasn’t even had a chance to react, and he’s already furious.

I turn to Potter, who looks confused, and give him a pleading look. _Please go with it. Please. _Potter stares at me for only a second, then glances at Snape.

“Yeah,” he says, coming around behind me to get to the seat next to me. Severus is forced to step out of the way as Potter comes into his space and pulls out the stool. He swiftly pushes Severus’ books to the edge of the table and drops his own in their place. I let out a breath. Potter stares at Severus and raises an eyebrow, as if wondering what he’s still doing here. “Piss off?”

Severus stares at me incredulously. “Seriously, Lily?”

I shrug. “Potter’s really good at Potions.”

“I topped Potions last year!” Severus is fully scowling now. As if Potions skill is really the reason I don’t want to work with him. I know that he knows it’s not, and that knowledge irritates me even more.

I shrug again, emboldened now that I have an out. “The sight of Potter’s face doesn’t make me want to stick my head in a boiling cauldron.” Next to me, Potter snorts. Severus’ nostrils are flaring now. “And anyways, his final potion was much tougher than yours.”

This, I think, has done it. He looks between me and Potter (who looks pretty pleased), as if he can’t decide where to direct his fury, but then Slughorn says, “Two more minutes.” With a final withering glower, Severus grabs his books back off the desk and whips around, stalking off to find someone else to work with.

“_Thank you_,” I say to Potter as soon as he’s gone. “I owe you one.”

Before he can answer, Peter Pettigrew jumps off his stool and bounds over to us. He looks decidedly unhappy. “What the hell, Prongs? I thought we were partners!”

“Shit, sorry mate.” Potter grins at me. “Evans didn’t give me much of a choice.”

I wince slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t want to be partners with Severus.”

Potter does a quick sweep of the room with his eyes, swiveling around on the stool to see who’s behind us. “Oi, Jones! Do you have a partner?” Hestia shakes her head. I guess whoever she was talking to already had a partner. “Perfect.” To Pettigrew, he says, “You can work with Remus, and Sirius can work with Jones. He’ll be thrilled.” To me, he says, “Sirius fancies her something fierce, but you didn’t hear it from me. Spread that around though, will you?”

A couple of minutes and some shuffling later, Potter and I have moved back a couple of rows because he prefers sitting farther back. Pettigrew is seated in Black’s vacated spot next to Remus, two rows behind us. Black and Hestia are sitting in the row behind us – he does look pleased, and Remus only looks slightly exasperated, which is a relief. I wouldn’t want any of them to actually be annoyed with Potter on my account.

“Seriously, thanks,” I say again, once we’re all settled in our new seats.

Potter shakes his head. “Snape’s a creep.” He smiles at me. “And who am I to say no to an _O_ in Potions when the opportunity presents itself?”

I smile, feeling thoroughly relieved once again. I wouldn’t want Potter being annoyed with _me_, either.

“Did you get us good times? What took you so long, anyways?” Black asks from behind us.

Potter turns around, and I busy myself with getting my stuff ready to take notes. “Yeah. I waited outside Zeller’s office since _six_, and she showed up like fifteen minutes ago, said she slept in. But I’m sure Aubrey had something to do with it, because Zeller looked well out of it and he strolled in with a shit eating grin on his face. Looked surprised as fuck to see me there still, he was probably expecting I’d have left for class before Zeller showed.”

Bertram Aubrey is the Ravenclaw quidditch captain – a vile arsehole who is thoroughly unfamiliar with the concepts of good sportsmanship and fair play. Marge Zeller is the school’s flying instructor and in charge of everything quidditch related. So that explains Potter’s lateness – he was booking training times.

I find myself feeling rather impressed with Potter once again. As well as being on top of head boy stuff, he’d also put up a notice for Gryffindor quidditch tryouts the very night we got back and booked the pitch for it last Monday. Tryouts were yesterday and the day before, a full week before any of the other captains had managed to schedule theirs. I’d gone to support Marlene, though already being on the team made it pretty unlikely she’d lose her spot. I don’t think Potter has even decided on the team yet, but he’s apparently already booked the best training times? And he’d waited for Zeller since before I even woke up to do it.

“You’re kidding?” Black scowls. “I’m gonna get it out of him.”

Potter shrugs. “We got the best times either way. And he hasn’t even held tryouts yet, but Ravenclaw’s prospects this year are shit. No offence Jones, not you.”

Hestia snorts. She plays as a chaser on the Ravenclaw team. “None taken. You’re dead right. I can’t believe Aubrey would go that far though, you really think he’d mess with Zeller?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Black mutters darkly.

“Alright, settle down! Let’s get started,” Slughorn calls from the front of the room.

Potter turns back around as everyone starts to quiet down. He pulls a roll of parchment and a bottle of ink from his bag, but pauses while he’s opening it and glances at me.

“Can I borrow one?” he whispers, glancing at the pens I have set out in front of me.

I’ve been taking my notes with ballpoint pens and paper notebooks since third year, when the novelty of parchment and quills wore off – they’re expensive and impractical, and while I still use them for assignments I have to submit, pens and paper win out for everything else.

I like to take my notes in different colours (another reason to use pens – who’s going to carry around multiple bottles of ink?) so I have several on the desk. I give Potter a black one, since he writes with black ink and I have an extra.

“Thanks.” Potter pops the cap off and sticks it on the end, like I’ve done. I watch him as he writes the date in the top right corner of his parchment. In the left corner, he writes _Potions_ and below that, _Lecture #4 – Mood Potions (4/ )_

“This is the final lecture on mood potions before I’ll let you try brewing,” Slughorn is saying at the front. Potter nods his head once and updates his title to read _Mood Potions (4/4)_ and then goes back through his stack of notes and updates all the rest: (1/4), (2/4), (3/4).

“This is _so_ much better than a quill,” he says. “It’s so smooth. And you don’t have to keep dipping back in for ink.

“Right? Try a coiled notebook next, it’ll change your life.”

He glances at the one I’m writing in. “Where can I get one?”

“Muggle stationary shops.”

“Guess I’ll have to stick to parchment for now, then.”

I don’t know why I’m so fascinated. In all our years of being in classes together, I’ve never sat next to Potter in class or worked with him on a project. I guess part of me has always wondered how he learns, how he studies. He never comes off as particularly academic, but he always does so well. I’ve always just assumed he’s naturally gifted and maybe I’ve been slightly jealous of that.

But despite his occasionally turning around to talk to Black, he’s actually a diligent note taker. His notes are neat and organized. He leaves a column of parchment on the left empty, and a few times I see him scrawl his own notes and questions there, additions to what Slughorn is giving us on the board. My own notes are a mess in comparison, and it’s a more irritating revelation than I care to admit.

When the lecture is over, Potter turns to me. “I already have some ideas, but we should do a bit of research before we start brewing next class. I have time tonight if you want to meet at the library after classes?”

I stare at him, a little dumbfounded, and nod. Behind us, Black snorts in amusement.

Potter’s lips twitch. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You’re like…” I trail off. Potter waits. “Um, really… organized.” I fight the urge to cringe. I’m aware for the first time of how much attention I’ve paid to him in the last hour. I watched how he takes his notes, for fuck’s sake. I know it’s just getting some answers to years of curiosity, but it’s still embarrassing to realize.

Potter laughs lightly and shrugs. “I just figured we’re both busy, it’s easier to get things out of the way quickly.”

“You’d cream your pants if you saw his annotated calendars and colour coded weekly to do lists, Evans,” Black says, coming up next to Potter. He grabs Potter’s books off the desk and shoves them into his bag impatiently. “Let’s go.”

I wrinkle my nose and Potter shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Piss off, you’re so fucking crass.”

“Does four work for you?” I ask Potter, ignoring Black altogether.

“Yeah, four’s good.”

Black is already in the process of tugging Potter away when Evelyn and Eliza sweep past us, arms hooked together. Though Eliza tries to tug her away, Evelyn pauses and looks over her shoulder on her way out. When her eyes meet mine this time, she doesn’t smile. There’s something decidedly cold about her gaze, and it sends a bit of a shock through me.

Black glances between me and Potter and arches a brow. Potter rolls his eyes and shoves his friend ahead of him. “Go, I can’t be late for McGonagall’s class three times in a row. I’ll get detention.”

Well, this is awkward. It feels like the right time to say bye to them, but all three of us realize we’re heading to the same class as I start walking too. Potter slows to let me fall into step with him and Black.

Black shakes his head. “You can’t get detention anymore, you’re head boy!”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, mate.”

“Okay, then what’s the point?”

“Of what?”

“Of being head boy?”

Potter sighs. “Sirius, we’re not having this conversation again.”

Black glances at me. “Evans, did you know the head boy isn’t even allowed to forgive detentions?”

I snort. “Yes.”

“They really conned us,” Black mutters, shaking his head. He throws an arm around Potter’s shoulders. “So how’s he doing so far?”

I tilt my head thoughtfully. “Surprisingly well, actually.”

Potter scoffs in offense. “_Surprisingly?_ You told me I’m the perfect man for the job, the best possible candidate, you’re so glad Dumbledore chose me, I’m extraordinarily talented and handsome?”

In front of us in the corridor, I spot Evelyn turn around to glance at us again. Eliza tugs on her arm to make her walk faster, but Evelyn refuses to change pace. Is she listening to us? Out of the corner of my eye, I see Potter looking at her too.

“What does your handsomeness have to do with being head boy?” I ask, fighting an amused smile.

Potter turns back to me and grins brightly. “Are you saying I’m handsome?”

“Are you suggesting I’ve never said that before and therefore you definitely just lied about me singing your praises?”

“Yes I’m a liar, but am I handsome liar?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s almost as if your confidence depends entirely on other people’s reassurance.”

Black snorts. “Shit, you’re right. He does love compliments.”

Potter scowls at his friend. “Wow, okay. We’re all just bullying James today.”

My lips twitch. “Why are you talking about yourself as part of the third party bullying you?”

“Listen,” Potter says.

After an extended pause, he still hasn’t said anything, so I say, “I’m listening.”

“He doesn’t have anything to say,” Black tells me. “That’s just a thing he says when he has nothing else to say.”

I laugh, and Potter huffs. “I’ve been up since _five_, none of my so called friends got me anything from breakfast even though I was busy setting our team up for a successful season, and honestly I’m feeling very targeted right now.”

There’s a whine in his voice and almost a pout on his lips and it makes me laugh even harder. “My god, you’re needy,” I manage through my giggles. I search in my bag and pull out a granola bar. “Here, you big baby. Eat and stop talking.”

Potter’s eyes actually light up as he takes the granola bar. “Coconut chocolate chip! That’s my favourite combination.”

“Mine too! I stock up on these before the semester. I need a constant supply of snacks.”

Potter shrugs Black’s arm off his shoulder and puts his own around mine instead. “I told you we’d be fast friends, Evans.”

I smile. I think he might be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as always. Please leave me comments, I live off them. And come talk to me on tumblr at moonawrites.tumblr.com!

**Author's Note:**

> That was fun! I think I'll keep the chapters fairly short (at least at first) so the updates come quicker (at least I hope). I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think in the comments because I'm greedy for validation =)
> 
> Come talk to be on tumblr at moonawrites.tumblr.com!


End file.
